Nica of the New Yorks

by Sue Perry

  In the dash to the Bridge, our Frame Travel included rapid shifts yet the celebrant roars persisted as we changed Frames. "They're following us!" I gasped.

  "They hunt seeders. Save your air for running."

  When Hari!–Ya delivered me to Ma'Urth, I didn't recognize my home Frame at first: late morning, yet Brooklyn Bridge was well nigh empty. We were a few steps onto Manhattan's streets when she said, "Here shall I leave you. I must join the hunt for seeders or my loyalties will be questioned."

  We clasped arms and she turned back to cross the Bridge.

  "You saved my life," I said.

  "If you wish to thank me, protect yourself."

  And she was gone.

  53. LEAVE ALONE

  I trudged west and north. No sun penetrated Ma'Urth's damp fog or warmed the drizzle that soaked my clothes. Sporadic taxi drivers and occasional pedestrians shot unfriendly glances my way, as though checking my threat potential. I shot similar glances their way.

  On the one hand, I could feel despondent, because the awful events in Expletive Deleted were likely occurring in other Frames, too. On the other hand, even in that Maelstrom stronghold, beings risked their lives in resistance, which made me hopeful and proud.

  I had to believe that some seeders and grandmaters would survive, just as I had to believe that we would get Mathead and Scabman, that I would free the books, that Anya and Anwyl would prevail. Without such beliefs, forward motion became impossible.

  My lanyard maintained steady prickling, which made me want to peel my skin off and gave me the wherewithal to Travel to Frivolous Bedlam. Marginally better: the sky was glacial but the wind had softened to a chilly breeze.

  Food carts surrounded me. I was glad for the company but not their enthusiasm. "We waited at the Bridge for you," a pretzel cart said matter–of–factly. "You're walking funny. Do you need a ride?"

  "I'd love one." When a churro cart came forward, I spread my jacket over warm soft pastries and climbed aboard. I nibbled a churro and stopped shivering. Deep fried dough rolled in sugar—Maelstrom can't take that away from me! Well, he can, but not just then. I took a bigger bite. "Hey, how come you guys have fresh food? No one is ever here to eat it."

  "Cat Shaver asks big questions. We never wonder about that."

  As soon as I said no one, a trio of humanoids walked by, grabbed pretzels from a cart, and continued down the street. By the time I got to mid–town, I saw at least a dozen sets of Travelers, the first beings I had ever happened upon in Frivolous Bedlam. All moved quickly and all grabbed food from carts. I wanted to know their business but didn't ask. This wasn't a time to trust strangers.

  A soft voice asked, "May we?" and a blue–furred being from Marzipan stood before me. I scooped churros from deep under my jacket and handed them to his white–furred children. The kids squeaked thanks as the grown–up bustled them away.

  Marzipan. In Marzipan could be more information that I needed. I was near the block where I'd Traveled to Marzipan and talked with the proustel vendor. She had ended our conversation abruptly, to warn her people about Maelstrom's release. Maybe now she'd have time to talk. Maybe I'd get lucky and find her in the same location. I jumped from my churro cart and hugged my jacket, which was warm like it came right out of a dryer. For that treat, I could ignore the sugar and grease stains.

  I Traveled to Marzipan and I was indeed lucky, by about twenty feet. That distance kept me alive.

  In an intersection twenty feet away, a squadron of books flew, shedding text as they headed toward a battle in progress.

  Blue– and white–furred Marzipani were surrounded by Entourage. The furred beings fought ferociously. Some Marzipani got behind the enemy, to attack them from two sides. The Entourage had a peculiar battle style that seemed to be all offense. They did little to protect themselves. Perhaps they had been programmed for a certain kind of fight. When the Marzipani got behind them, the Entourage fell quickly. For a brief time, the Marzipani had the advantage.

  Then the books joined the fray. The fighting paused and both sides seemed to acknowledge that everything had changed. The Marzipani resumed fighting even more ferociously and killed quite a few Entourage before thick rains of text sliced the furred beings into mounds. Blue fur turned purple, white fur turned pink.

  I got out of Marzipan without drawing attention.

  Back in Bedlam, I wasn't cold but I was shaking and to climb back on the churro cart I needed a boost from a hot dog stand with hydraulics. I kept seeing oozing masses of pink and purple fur.

  For years, the Cysts had prepped armies for Maelstrom's return. Even without books they would be hard to beat. With books they were invincible.

  The warmth of the churros no longer comforted me. Leave alone. My mantra didn't help much, either.

  Those books showed no emotion when they pulverized the furred beings. Were they capable of knowing right from wrong? Were mine?

  Maelstrom fed good books to a device. I'd better figure out what that meant, pronto.

  My apartment in Bedlam usually felt like an oasis. Today it felt cut off. I yearned to know what was happening at home. When I get stressed I lose the ability to sit still. As Jenn would say, You're ricocheting, Nica. And now I was ricocheting between Frames.

  I Traveled from my couch in Bedlam to my couch on Ma'Urth. My apartment on Ma'Urth felt more hollow than a sinkhole, which made me regret changing Frames in that way. Julian would protect me from walking through a door into trouble—but I wasn't sure he could keep the inside of my apartment safe. I deadbolted my door, checked that the bathroom window and bars were latched. Of course, anybody with any real power could—

  That wasn't a thought I should finish. I peeked out the kitchen window at the fire escape and hoped the stolen lawn chair was okay. I looked around for more things to lock.

  Back in the front room, Leon was on the couch, which made everything seem manageable again. I crooned sweet nothings, "Heyyyy, my bodyguard, want your head scratched? Oh, yeah, that's the spot..." I grabbed my laptop to watch news while I scratched Leon.

  The internet worked fine, which disturbed me. With Maelstrom's escape, everything normal felt wrong. In the on–line news streams, the media professionals were more composed than they had been last night and commercials interrupted the special programming. Goodness, there were a lot of talking heads—no two alike but all the same. A few bottom lines emerged. American television programming is resilient, there had been no additional attacks, and no one had a clue what had happened. I closed the laptop and let Leon's purr rumble through me.

  I must have fallen asleep because suddenly Leon was gone and the laptop was leaving my hands.

  54. MUST BE SO IMPORTANT

  Anwyl joined me on the couch. He had mud and blood on his tunic, scrapes on all visible skin. "I'd hate to be the other guy, huh?"

  He rested his head on the back of the couch and his legs stretched into the room, one long lean line with a hint of bend at the middle. He stared at the floor, his eyes in shadow.

  "Where did Maelstrom go when he escaped? Do we know?" Were his eyes closed? I whispered, "Are you awake?"

  "I am," he whispered back.

  "I saw other beings in Bedlam today. Why haven't I seen any before?"

  "During war, Travel grows."

  "Has the war started now? Where's Anya? What's our next move? I know you said for me to help Jenn and Hernandez but for what they're doing a duo is perfect so what are some other moves for me?"

  He sighed, stood. "I am not here for your incessant questions."

  "Don't go, I'll shut up."

  "Yes." He pulled me into his arms.

  Now this was the kind of wham–bam session I'd originally fantasized about Anwyl. It left me on the floor, gasping; Anwyl breathed deeply beside me. "There is –" I lacked the air to finish. Another dozen inhales and I tried again. "I need to ask you about one thing."

  "Need? Or want?" He gazed at the ceiling.

  "Yes." He regarded me peripherally. "H
ow's that for an inscrutable non–answer? Now I feel like a real daughter of the Frames." I touched the edge of his mouth, which twitched. "You're not about to—smile, are you?"

  He bared some teeth and pulled me on top of him.

  Some time later, I said, "This is what I wanted to ask you about." I showed him news videos from Chicago. As in New York, the explosions that freed Maelstrom had sent people into the streets. For Chicago, last night's weather had been decent—clear with temps in the low 40s—but then, out of nowhere, tornadoes sprouted, causing scores of injuries and several deaths.

  While Anwyl watched the Chicago coverage, he continued to sprawl ungarmented and I enjoyed the view. He had scratches on the skin that anybody could see, anytime. I got to see the rest. I wasn't callous. Uncaring. Unaffected by the violence I'd seen—or caused. Quite the opposite—especially because Maelstrom and the Cysts were just getting started. To remain functioning, my best defense was to unleash my inner Blanche DuBois, the younger Blanche who fought oblivion with desire.

  My therapy, aka Anwyl, tapped the laptop screen. Why did I show him that news clip?

  "Did those tornadoes have to do with our resistance to Maelstrom? You sent Kelly Joe to Chicago with some new allies."

  "Well reasoned, Nica." He fiddled with my computer. "Here began the tornadoes."

  A laptop window gave a bird's eye view of the beings in bright robes, stepping through a Chicago that had water where the streets should be. Jets of whirling water covered the robed allies with what looked like giant ants. These swarmed over the bodies then slipped back to the watery street, leaving stripped skeletons behind.

  I leaned against Anywl; I needed that support. "What are those water spout things?"

  "Piranha ants, beings manufactured by Warty Sebaceous Cysts."

  "Manufactured. Like their clockwork dogs and the flying chainsaws?"

  "No. Those beings are primarily for show. The piranha ants are living weapons, akin to the dangerous beings like the gila chickens."

  "Chickens? That's not even fair." I dragged myself up to sitting.

  "The laughter ceases on first encounter." Anwyl touched my cheek in that intimate way that gave me flaming goosebumps. "Think anew of your involvement with this fight. Each day will bring new horrors. Anya will not compel you to take such risks. Nor, ever, shall I."

  "So long as you and Anya believe I can help the cause, it'll take more than killer chickens to get rid of me."

  "More will come." He did stuff on my laptop and steered the view along spotlit streets in Expletive Deleted, empty but for scattered naked remains. Seeders. He turned a corner and I recognized the grungy park. Some of the flower petal mandala was still in place. A heap of grannies lay nearby, dead but not defiled. Cobra people covered the heap in black bits, then set the bits on fire. As fire consumed the grandmaters, the flames turned the color of rose hips and chirped like silver birds.

  I made a sorrowful noise that I tried to disguise as surprise. "Is that Expletive Deleted? What is happening there?"

  "Many would rally against Maelstrom, should the grandmaters request it, so their murders are now on his hands. Warty Sebaceous Cysts seek to annihilate all seeders so that no new grandmaters will evolve. Seeders hide in safety for the non, and from their safe haven we will distribute them through many Frames, so that a few may survive. Hari!–Ya leads this important effort. You will assist her in moving seeders."

  "Okay," I gulped. Did Anwyl know I'd gone back to Expletive Deleted? Was he trying to catch me in a lie?

  Paranoia? Where?

  Nope, Anwyl wasn't sneaky and deceitful like that. That would describe me, not him.

  To get to the seeders' safe haven, Anwyl led me south on Amsterdam Avenue, then Traveled us to a Frame that must be very near Bedlam, based on the level of building noise. We entered a narrow featureless building that was a hole–in–wall hotel on Ma'Urth. In a hall on the second floor, the building whispered, "Lobotomists have passed my door three times. They search my neighbors and they ask for you. The buildings now spread the question in their distorted way."

  Anwyl pressed a hand against the paisley wallpaper of the hall. "Thank you for your vigilance. Before I depart this Frame, I will let many buildings see me in many places, so that they may spread the word that I have been seen often and elsewhere."

  Anwyl led me into an apartment's shower stall. He turned the water lever—like this then like that—and led us into a room where the wall was sliding open with a faint buzz. Behind this secret entry was a suite of rooms with no windows and no other door. The suite was crowded with seeders and empty pizza boxes.

  "There's pizza in this Frame?"

  "Pizza is a universal food in all the Frames that I have known. Step inside. These are the souls you will scatter through the Frames."

  The room pulsed with the same calm acceptance the grannies had shown as they arranged flower petals while their deaths approached. Many of the seeders were shorter and smaller than the gorgeous hunks I'd seen before. Their muscle–hugging clothes hung loose, exposing wizened skin.

  "Are the seeders turning into grandmaters? I thought that only happened rarely."

  "The greater the danger to the Frames, the more—and more rapidly—grandmaters evolve."

  "Wow." My spine grew extra steel. The grannies must be so important to the fight against Maelstrom.

  In one corner, a group of them hunched over another mandala, this one made of olives, string cheese, and other pizza components.

  "Each day, Hari!–Ya will move these grandmaters, pair by pair, to Frames near and far, until her energy is spent. She will enlist your help. If a day passes without her visit, she is dead and you must get word to me." Anwyl touched my cheek in that bedroom way. "I shall not see you for an armful of days. Tread carefully. Treachery paves every road."

  We parted ways in the building's second–floor hallway. His warning didn't faze me much because I was so proud that he trusted me with insider information.

  I ran down the stairs like a gazelle. The new grannies had wiped Maelstrom's slime from my thinking but outside my thoughts began to glisten again. Leave alone, you don't belong here. I belted my mantra like I was Christina Aguilera. No room for gloom. This diva had a busy day of insurgence ahead.

  55. LIKE THERE WAS A WIND, EXCEPT THERE WASN'T

  Leon did his cockroach scurry beside me on the way home. The gray drizzle made us damp and he licked a paw while I held my hand on Julian's front doorknob. No resistance, the door opened easily. Safe to go inside. Leon scurried indoors between my feet.

  I had time for a shower and granola before Hernandez and Jenn arrived and sank onto the couch. He looked like someone ran over his dog. She looked like the dog.

  "How was your trip? Any problems getting back?"

  Hernandez shook his head. "Smooth going—no sign that anything untoward happened last night."

  "Do you know something about those terrorist attacks?" Jenn's tone straddled the fence between accusing and suspicious.

  "They're not what you think –"

  "You know more than me, I got that message already." Her cheekbones were sharper than usual and her eyes were puffy.

  "Did you sleep at all last night?"

  "I've already had a mother, Nica."

  Hernandez stood. "Let's grab a bite. We need to scout some construction sites."

  Jenn remained seated. "What's the point." She didn't say it like a question.

  Hernandez returned to the couch like he might hurt the air if he moved too fast.

  I got what was happening. "Maelstrom is affecting you. That's why you feel like giving up and don't know how to behave. You have to block the effect. Anya showed me how."

  "Will you just." Jenn shoved herself to standing. "I need a shower and a nap."

  "After we do this. Jenn, please. Last night something—a being of terrible force—was released into the world. I know you don't believe all this Frames shit but act as if you do. This being is cruel—evil—and he feed
s on our negative emotions, so he makes us feel as bad as possible, then feasts. I can train you to block the effects."

  "What, now you're a Padawan? Please stop. I'm not up for this."

  Hernandez grimaced like her words cut him.

  "Jenn. If you ever loved me, you need to do this."

  I don't say that kind of stuff. It loosened her funk.

  So I trained them. We kept at it until they found mantras that restored peace of mind. Jenn's was an elaborate chain of cuss words and Hernandez's was something about his daughters that he kept to himself.

  I went out with Hernandez and Jenn on their next scout–and–prep mission. They had a few more current Lantana construction sites to damage, and then they'd go after already–completed remodels.

  With each hour that passed, Manhattan's street congestion seemed closer to normal, but it wasn't life as usual. Few chatted into cell phones, the food trucks had short lines. People moved with a clench to the jaw and a stomp to the step, clutching their coats like there was a wind, except there wasn't. I worried about the ones still huddled at home.

  Jenn and Hernandez could teach me about sneaky. At each construction site, Jenn would locate the most discreet exit and text its location to Hernandez. Meanwhile he'd be inside, pretending to look for work, but actually deciding where fire could do the best damage. He'd leave by the exit Jenn had selected. Sometimes, somebody would redirect him. Other times, he'd open that door and Jenn would be on the other side, ready to foul the lock with gum and paper. That would be their way in, when they returned tonight as arsonists.

  Jenn and I were in an alcove off a street when a quartet of hardhats filled the alcove. Jenn converted her door grab to a lunge to retrieve a pack of gum that she dropped on purpose. Now, Jenn is sexy. It's her nature. Blowing her nose on the third day of a cold, she's down to a level of sexy that few of us ever rise to. All four construction workers helped her retrieve the gum then acted embarrassed about it.